(The following is a work of fanfiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.)

(inFAMOUS and/or other related titles are rightfully owned by Sucker Punch Productions)


"The world seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it." – Bram Stoker, Dracula.


- CHAPTER ONE -

THE ABBEY

(Northern Bohemia, Czech Republic – 30th of October – 11:35 PM)

The night sky was blanketed in red, and the full autumn moon materialized high above, barely spilling its bright cream-colored rays past the black and wispy clouds. The cold October wind brushed against his shaved head and hardly nipped his cheeks. The essence of death loomed in the chilled air as fog slowly began to settle in, overcasting the background of this weary land, covering up the dirt floor beneath his boot-worn feet.

His dark eyes searched around at the hazy gloom of the environment of the deep forest that which he was in, being surrounded by barren trees, leaving nothing but naked branches resembling long skeletal fingers reaching out at all directions. Not a trace of the ground was visible, as mentioned before, for the fog had now obscured all trace of it, leaving him blind to whatever else he could step on, be it possibly browned dead leaves, a trap laid out for him by his pray, or a small animal.

But he did not need to see the ground to know exactly where it was, for years of honing his senses taught him to see with his ears and not just with his eyes alone. He could hear the crows cawing out at each other, the crickets chirping, and a lone wolf howling from an elongated distance. He could also hear the trickling of a nearby stream. Closing his blue eyes, he carefully placed the palm of his right black gloved hand down on the ground, his mind giving him mental pictures of what he was touching. His gloved hand searched for whatever was different about the ground until he came upon something that seemed to be very out of place.

He traced the outlines with his naked fingers until he came to the successful conclusion that it was a footprint, not of his own of course, but one that was… Hmm, odd. The footprint was something Cole had not expected at all. This was not the print of a bare foot, but rather, and judging by the shape of the heel and the sole, they were most likely high-quality loafer shoes. Who would have guessed that this vampire had such an upstanding taste?

The direction of the footprint was straight in front of him, telling him that whoever it was that made that print was close. He stood back up onto his feet and peered his trained eyes as best he could into the darkness. From far ahead, as the moon barely shined across the land, he could see what his eyes and sharp mind could describe as the shadowy outlines of an old structure that displayed itself from afar. Based on the information given to him by the people of the village that was now less than five miles behind him, Cole concluded that what he was seeing was what appeared to be that of an abbey that had been in disuse, long abandoned, for quite some time.

So that is where you are hiding, he thought. You can only stay in the darkness for so long. But I will find you, and I will finally avenge my friend. Cole inhaled a deep breath through his nose and slowly exhaled through his mouth.

Cole MacGrath was a rugged-looking young man, appearing to be twenty-seven years of age with a shaven head and a set of dark eyes.

About his torso was a crimson red t-shirt and a stylized black long coat with two split tails and red lining underneath. He wore a pair of black knee-high combat boots, as well as black fingerless gloves and armor-plated kneepads. Strapped firmly to the upper legs of his black pants were leather gun holsters. Etched on the silver buckle of his multi-poached comic book-style utility belt was a peculiar emblem, the image of a simple cross with a fanged skull head in the center.

He turned around swiftly, approached his horse that patiently waited for him – one that was given to him by one of the local farmers who lived about twelve miles south from here, and climbed onto the leather saddle. A kick from his heels and the horse was off, its hooves clip clopping against the hardened soil, carefully trotting along the mist-hidden path that lead to the crumbling monastery ahead. Eventually, after traversing through the surrounding forest and on the road, he gently pulled onto the reins, making his horse come to a complete stop. They were now at the foot of the entrance of the abbey. Cole looked up and examined every detail of the abbey.

The place was roughly about more than three floors high and gray stone bricks made up most of the structure. A few rectangular windowpanes were present here and there. On the right side of the abbey was a small tower where the old bell hung. A large circular stained-glass window displayed itself up above the entrance of the abbey. Many crypts and gravestones were everywhere, surrounding almost the entire property by less than one acre. Cole's eyes slightly shifted into a glare. After dismounting from his horse and hitched the reins to a nearby pole, he opened a large duffle bag that hung on the right side of the saddle.

Inside were a certain number of varied equipment, those being a multi-poached utility bandolier – which he directly slung over his long coat and chest – and an assortment of small vials that were filled with a multitude of distinctive contents in each one; ranging from garlic cloves, poppy seeds, and wolfsbane to holy water, mountain ash, and salt, all in that exact order. The traditional apparatus used appropriately for the likes of dismantling those of the vampire menace. All of this, he organizingly placed in his utility belt, one vial for one pouch.

Drawing from the duffle bag further, Cole grabbed a small quiver of sharply pointed wooden stakes, and hid them beneath his long coat, along with other forms of monster hunting weaponry. The very last thing Cole drew from his bag were dual custom-made Ruger Old Army revolvers, both appearing to be made of stainless silver steel, and both of the guns came with ornamental engravings that were etched around the frames, cylinders and the seven-and-a-half-inch barrels. Shown on both sides of the polished wooden handles was the familiar cross and stylized skull head logo.

With that, he placed both revolvers in each of their own respective holsters. After that was done, he drew further from the bag and pulled out many moon clips that were loaded with gleaming sacred .45 caliber bullets and packaged them in each of the poaches of his utility belt and bandolier.

After breathing in a calm breath and then exhaling it out, Cole muttered a quick word of prayer, and then he walked up to the entrance and carefully opened the withered wooden door, making a loud and slow creak. Once inside the abbey, Cole gazed around at the structural interior. The marble stone walls were quite in a state of decay. There were two rows of pews that stretched all the way to the other side of the room, which Cole perceived to be some sort of a chapel. The tapestries that hung against the marble walls were either torn in half, shredded into pieces, or long eaten away by moths. It was all so very odd. There was not a single trace of anything that was modern to be found here.

No light switches, no plug-in lamps, nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. It was as if the people of this county had truly stopped coming here a long time ago for more than seven hundred years, ever since after the Reign of Charles IV, King of Bohemia had ended, as if the place had long stopped catching up with the times since then. As he carefully treaded across the room, he suddenly heard a noise from the second floor above.

A sound that resembled that of aged wood that creaked from a single footstep. Immediately, he started up the staircase that was nearby. What he saw was a dark and dusty room mildly covered in cobwebs around certain corners of the walls and other objects that had not been touched for only God knew how long. A long-rusted axe hung above the disused fireplace.

Following his trained ears, Cole made his way to the next room that was situated near the bell tower. The moonlight shone through the broken glass windowpanes, giving his blue eyes a better look at the dwelling. The room was just as much in disarray as the previous one. The ceiling was more than thirteen feet high with an iron chandelier that hung from the center.

A few ripped-up tapestries and unlit torches covered most of the stone walls. Cole kept his senses sharp as he carefully passed through the room, one cautious step at a time, the fingers of both his hands coiling tightly around the grips of his custom Old Army Rugers in their holsters. Even with the moon's rays shining through inside, there were still gloomy corners and shadows in the large room.

And then, Cole immediately heard the danger neighboring close by. A part of the rafters above had creaked. Cole quickly turned around and he glanced up and saw the shadow of a living person scaling up top. Before the silhouetted being could possibly make an escape, Cole quickly drew the custom revolver from his left holster, aimed, and then pulled the trigger of his weapon. With a fired flash of the muzzle, a single blessed bullet flew across the air at one of the withered rails close to the shadowy figure above, splintering a large chunk of the age-old wood near the figure's feet. With finesse and ease, the shadowed form leapt from the rafters and landed nimbly on its feet to the floor down to Cole's level.

"I suspected right, knowing that you would hide in a forsaken place like this," Cole spoke. "Now, I hope that you're prepared to face what is to come next, Bloody Mary." Thanks to the beaming light of the full moon, Cole was given a much better look at whoever it was laying on the floor. But what he saw was something that which he was not expecting at all. What he saw caused his face to slacken and his eyes to widen, surprise and shock filling up his heart. The vampire slowly turned its head to the side, eying the monster hunter from its peripheral vision, and smiled a very toothy grin.

"I'm afraid that Lady Mary ain't here, at the moment," the vampire spoke, in a low and yet also ominous voice that was all too familiar to Cole. A voice that he had not heard in four long years, one that he instantly recognized as the voice of–

"Zeke?" Cole murmured, his mind trying to comprehend the revealed identity of the humanoid monster he saw standing with its back turned before him.

Slowly but surely, the vampire turned around to face Cole, revealing itself completely for the hunter to see. A hint of black and red slowly became visible. The figure, a young pudgy-looking man in his mid-to-late twenties and clad in red-and-black clothing, stepped forth, emerging from the darkness and appeared before the shining moonlight, his unnaturally pastel face revealed in ominous shadows from the stark light.

Cole instantly turned pale.

"Hiya, Cole," said Zeke, a wicked-looking smile plastered on his face. "It's good to see you again."

TO BE CONTINUED...


What did ya'll think? Was it good? Bad? Meh? Let me know in your reviews and tell me what you think could be improved. Until then, have a lovely Autumn and stay safe. ;)